Someday You Will be Saved
by Lhye
Summary: Through the slow months that have gone by, Cassian has watched the Doctor's torture, and his insanity; he wants it to end. No one else will, and he wants Jezebel to be saved...Implied shonen-ai


**Author's Note:** I personally liked the sub-story between Cassian and Jezebel, and I felt it deserved more fleshing out. The material in volume 5 between them got to me, and inspired this. Oh and, as of yet, I haven't gotten past vol. 5. So if some things are detailed later that render some part of my story inaccurate, just let it go.

(Is it just me, or does Cassian look like a mini-Cain?)

WARNING:_ Spoilers for Volume 5, and possibly implied shonen-ai._

**_Someday You Will be Saved_**

A somber night always surrounded the massive headquarters of the Deliah headquarters. Regardless of the time of day, a blanket of foreboding shadow had long since draped itself over the halls of this place, and only the people with the blackest, dirtiest souls remained unaware of the wicked presence.

At this time, the day was genuinely closing, nearing midnight. A particular upward-jutting spire, a mastery of the Gothic style typically used for churches, a flat cornice protruded from the skeletal ornament, was located near the main entrance of the edifice. Upon the horizontal stone, Cassian sat with his legs draping off either side, leaning against the side of the steeple. Between his teeth a blade was clenched, and between his fingers a second one twirled expertly. Not one mark on his skin appeared as he disinterestedly spun the circus knife in his hand. For protection this evening he wore leather gloves, not thick enough to hinder his finger's movements, and yet just enough to give some protection to his skin in the event of a mishap.

Truth be told, he felt particularly distracted today. Normally he wouldn't even think to use gloves, but while playing with these sharpened blades, any loss of concentration could result in a bloody injury. Eyes half-closed with not tiredness, but thoughtfulness, they focused on the knife a foot away from his face, hand manipulating the thing in his nimble digits as if by its own accord.

For almost a half hour he was such, and only ceased when he heard the door open some way beneath him. In a second, the thin, flat handle of the knife was snatched in his hands and tucked away in its case within his coat; another second, and the one in his mouth joined the first one. He paid no attention that in his haste a thin cut marred the skin near his mouth. Slinging his left leg up, he placed his booted foot flat on the concrete and leaned over to look down below.

As he predicted, a pale blonde head made its way down the steps of the entrance. He was accompanied by a servant, apparently.

The doctor had been given another mission by the Cardmaster. Cassian had happened to be nearby as the same servant that escorted him now(a young woman obviously new fo Deliah's ranks), called him to meet with his father, escorting him down another hallway.

A brief exchange between the Jezebel and the young lady, before she retired back into what was surely the Devil's fortress. Lingering another moment, watching her leave, Jezebel looked up to find Cassian predictably overhead.

Cassian had made a habit of doing this. The quasi-young man felt the penetrating gaze of perhaps the most insane eyes in the entire organization. Silently, he understood the message.

Agilely, Cassian's small body flipped downward onto the balcony from which he had climbed from before, and disappeared into the room Jezebel wouldn't be able to see. Through winding corridors and richly ornate halls, feet pressing rhythmically and quietly on wealthy carpets, he eventually stepped through the enormous front doors. Finding the doctor still there, hands in pockets and eyes focused on the door, Cassian couldn't help but sense that Jezebel had been staring at the doors since his departure from the roof. Still as a statue, he had waited for Cassian's company.

No words needed to be spoken between them as Jezebel turned and proceeded to stride towards the front gate, as impressive and ornate as the building itself. With considerably shorter legs, Cassian hurried to close the distance between them, infinitely irritated that he had to run like a little boy trying to catch up with his father, slowing to only a walk. He noticed, again with some annoyance, that Jezebel's steps were slackened in consideration of Cassian.

Strolling down the cobblestone streets of a quieted London, Cassian eventually broke the silence. "Where are you going, what for now?"

"If you cared where you're headed," The doctor answered simply, "You should have asked before you decided to accompany me."

Asking no further questions, Cassian proceeded to follow him, accepting the answer and noting no hints of the doctor's wishes for him to leave.

—

Strangely bright, a waning crescent moon peered into the room, past the transparent glass of the window. Almost ominous in its supernatural glow. An over-romanticized specimen, Cassian thought.

The graphic slid from his view as he passed the window, a rectangular solid of light poured over him for that one instant. And the eerie silence of the deadened night had long ceased to plague him. Not for years had the moon brought him comfort, or the blackened night sky a deep sense of longing. He had never understood how the moon was claimed to stir these feelings.

Reaching a dark wooden door, he knocked several times, perhaps too softly to be heard by the one inside. He waited a moment, and, receiving an affirmative reply, turned the intricate golden door handle of the solidly thick panel, and pushed it open.

Inside the doctor's chamber, things of horror lined most of the shelves; the ones that were not, were piled neatly with papers and books. Dissected human organs, trays and metallic utensils for surgery that would spook the average person; grotesque displays of sliced and pinned hands, eyes, unrecognizable tissues and bones one would never think to come out of a human body so carefully wrapped with skin. Although these things did not bother Cassian, he still somehow was curious at how the Doctor Jezebel could sleep in the same room as these things.

At his desk the doctor sat, back turned to Cassian. The single source of light was that of a dancing orange flame atop a candle on one corner of the desk.

Well, perhaps not the only source, Cassian noted as the moonlight had extended towards him again through an even larger window located on the opposite side of the room.

Jezebel did not look up. An odd sight, as one side of him was lit with a burning, warm fire, the other basked in the silver shadow of the moon. The two clashed together on the man's body, harmoniously intertwining at folds in clothes, angles and curves of skin, waves of pallid blonde hair and even the round glasses perched on the top of a thin, long nose.

Standing in the doorway, it took the doctor's unseen companion another moment before stepping in and closing the door behind him. The doctor had not looked up from his textbook, likely on anatomy; he likely didn't need to look up to be aware of who was in his room.

For a while, they stayed like that, as if they had been molded out of glass or porcelain, sogently sculpted; it was almost surreal.

Several minutes went by, ticking softly behind the cover of the Doctor's pocket watch, although neither could hear it. Finally, he turned, and his eyes focused on Cassian's small form. "Yes? Cassian?"

Voiced subdued, smooth.The sound of a man whose stable mind had left him long ago. You truly had to beware the quiet more than the loud.

Cassian was about the speak, when a pressure on his legs startled him, and he looked down to find a small cat rubbing innocently against his right calf.

Dumbfounded, he stared at the little feline; he hadn't even seen the beast when he had first come in. A sweet-faced black cat, barely escaped from being a kitten, white paws and belly, its eerie green eyes staring Cassian in the face.

"Why is there a cat in here?"

"I found it abandoned on the street." Jezebel answered naturally, "It was in a large crate; it couldn't climb out the sides."

"A cat could climb out a crate..." Cassian muttered.

"This one couldn't, not for a while."

He was about to ask why before he noticed the bandage on the young animal's leg; recovering from an injury.

So instead, he asked, "What made you bring it in here?"

"It had nowhere else to go." Jezebel stood and made his way to the pair, scooping the delighted cat in his arms, cradling it against his chest as if it were a child. Cassian watched as the loving creature brushed its face against the doctor's cheek, pressing its cool nose to the human's neck, recognizing its savior.

Watching with quiet, adult maturity, Cassian wondered to himself if one day, perhaps someone would pull the doctor out of the hole he couldn't climb out of himself. His insanity, the darkness of his father's clutches; who would save the still young fanatic, filled with hate and rage?

And as Cassian watched the doctor's nimble fingers brushing down the cat's back, and heard the purring it drew out of the little thing, he plotted, he schemed, his lips pursed together in a tense frown.

--

"Doctor..."

Turning, Jezebel answered, "Oh...Cassian, you've brought the information that I asked Dr. Zenopia for..."

Sliding the papers from the envelope, the pale man glanced over them, musing, "Just as I thought..."

Exploring them further, he did not notice Cassian's constant watch of his movements. The older man, cursed to a boy's body, pursed his lips into a fine line, his tongue clenched between his teeth. He wanted to speak. Somehow this man provoked something deep inside him. This insane physician, would he listen? Would he heed his words as significant, or cast them aside as unimportant, unrelated storytelling?

Several moments seemed many minutes, and he finally began to speak. With his explanation, he saw that the focus of the man before him was now concentrated on him. The doctor was listening to him, without words and without expression. His eyes were glancing at him over the top of the papers, which gradually lowered in his hands as he continued to take in the autobiography Cassian was supplying him with. Whether or not it affected him was unclear, but at the least he was listening.

Months had gone by, and he had witnessed the deeply covered personality of the Cardmaster's illegitimate son. An acute innocence rested within that body and mind, slandered by insanity and a dark upbringing. His cynicism, his hate for all things human, had obsessively controlled his actions since reaching adulthood, perhaps even earlier than that. Despite this blackening, it had not touched the other parts of his soul; his compassion for animals spoke more for his own concealed humanity which he might not even have an awareness of.

Cassian realized himself to be rambling. For some reason his own life had spilled out, perhaps to try and convince the doctor, make him realize that he had _evidence_ for his concern.

"Right now you're in the same position as I was when I was cringing from the ringmaster's whip.." Cassian concluded, his voice strong, "If you don't break the spell, you'll continue to fall deeper into the darkness!"

_Yes,_ Cassian realized, Jezebel had been affected, his normally deadpan face replaced with an expression of a person who had been pricked deep inside, an individual who had heard something they needed to hear.

He began to plea even further with the doctor before Lord Gladstone, denouncing him for "not knowing his place", kicked him to the floor, and with a strong foot kept the small body pinned the cold, coarse, stone floor.

Disgusted, Cassian's mind churned. The Cardmaster _enjoyed_ witnessing his son's torment at the hands of Lord Gladstone. _Liked_ it. _Cherished_ the suffering he subjected his son to for his own _amusement._

His eyes, vivid with rage, turned up to the smirking Lord Gladstone, whose shoe he was still forced down with, and to the again emotionless doctor. On cue Jezebel followed out the noble who had just shoved him to the floor with an obnoxious foot.

Standing slowly as the two left, Cassian's eyes fixated on the waving ash blonde hair of the doctor as it fell down his back. Biting his lip and clenching his fists, his mind reeled with a strong resolution.

_He will not fall. If I have any power in this world, let it be shown. By a pledge of mine, he will someday be where he cannot be harmed any longer._

-+-_End chapter 1_

_Ending Notes:_ Originally this was supposed to be a one shot, but it was getting lengthy, and I left it alone too long; so I started to get very enthusiastic about it, and now...it's not a one shot anymore, is it? I don't think I'm capable of them.

I'm sorry I included dialogue straight from the manga. Won't happen again.


End file.
